After Class Partners
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Set in OoP, just because. The two are stuck after class to finish a Herbology project. And for once, they have a rather regular conversation. Dramione.


Just one quick note: for those who are going to ponder over the potion mentioned during the story, no, it's not listed in the original series. I just made it up to fit the scene. Thanks so much for your time.

After thirty long minutes of silence standing in the Greenhouse, Draco finally snapped, and said, "I don't like being paired up with you after class to finish this Herbology project any more than you do. And I know I tell you to shut up a lot, but you're not the best at giving me the cold shoulder either."

"Well, what do want me to say?" Hermione retorted.

"I don't know, but we have a lot of time to kill. Sprout told us this healing Dragon Snap Brew has to simmer on low for about an hour. And if we leave now, we'll be docked points." Draco sniggered afterwards. "Why don't you tell me about you're _love life_."

"Absolutely not!" Hermione's cheeks immediately grew red with embarrassment much to Malfoy's sadistic delight. She figured he was thinking at that moment that she didn't have much of a love life worth sharing—save for her dance with Krum the year prior.

"Cool off, will you?" he nagged, and thought for a second longer. "Then, ah, tell me…about your future dream."

"Why would I tell you that, Ferret?"

"I told you, Granger, it'll kill time until we can make our very-much-wanted departure."

"No."

"Fine, then." Draco huffed out. All of his attention was then directed back to cutting the lavender roots on the chop board below him. "You do not have to tell me. It's your business. We can just stand here, being bored as hell. No big deal. "

Hermione eyed him suspiciously at first, but then inquisitively. The poor ferret must've had to be that bored in order to attempt to start a natural conversation with the likes of her. (It seemed living the life as a wealthy socialite and extrovert left him feeling social-interaction deprived in this situation.)

Licking her lips, Hermione glanced back into the small cauldron, and muttered, "I wanted to become an Auror like Harry, at first…but lately, I…thought of becoming a teacher, possibly at the Beauxbatons Academy, if not here..."

His piercing grey eyes lifted to meet her gaze once more, mildly curious.

"Perhaps…become…Headmistress even, if I keep working hard to reach that level."

Draco slicing through the roots still, snorted, his upper lip slightly curling in the corner.

"What? Do you _really_ think I'm that pitiful, Malfoy?"

"No, not at all," Draco said, shaking his head. "I think you're tragic."

"_Tragic_," Hermione questioned sharply, disbelieving, "how so?"

"Okay look Granger, I'm only going to say this once, so in the future don't count on me telling you anything like this again, got it?" Draco used the dagger in his dominate hand to point at her with for emphasis, in place of his finger, "I won't deny you have potential when it comes to our studies. You have brains, and you have skill..."

Hermione had the feeling there a cruel twist following that compliment, "But…?"

"Yet there are a handful of others out there, who won't care about any of that if you try to gain the Headmaster's title."

"Then…what do _those people_ care about?"

"Origins," Draco replied, strictly and justly. "They will still care about your blood, and where you came from. Think on it, Granger. You read a lot of things, right? So, think back on the history of the entire Magical Community…are there any Muggleborns that have actually managed to lead any of the three schools?"

Hermione stared towards Draco attentively, and was silenced by hot uncertainty.

Draco took the liberty of answering for her, "No, there aren't. You see, Granger, it's not just Slytherins inside of this school. Prejudice behavior towards your kind can be found _throughout_ this world. In the markets, in the press, and even in the Ministry. Not to mention the supporters of You-Know-Who—you'd put all the students in danger as well if you became a target." Draco pointed out. "And _that_ is why it's tragic for you—because no matter how talented you really are, and no matter how much more clever you become in the upcoming years, there will be obstacles you will face that other witches and wizards won't have to, since they're born from magical blood. Purebloods are highly favored for that job, or Half-bloods can be endurable on occasion."

"Why does it always come down to our bloodlines with you? It is poor character and very narrow-minded! You know, if you really tried to be a decent person…I bet we could've had a better start five years ago."

"We _cannot_, or _could not_ be friends, Granger, and that's just how it is. I couldn't afford to be friends with you. Not only would it cause trouble for me, it could have also damaged your reputation as well. You'd be accused as a liar, or too much of a people-pleaser, a pushover. No one would believe _you _would be _my_ friend with selfless intentions."

"Oh? And what would I possibly want to get out of you, otherwise?"

"Nothing vile, I'm sure. I may find you annoying, but I know you're certainly not the type of person to befriend me merely because of my money or connections."

Hermione frowned then in subtle pity. That's why he always had friends, wasn't it? Why he had his sort of friends? And what was worse, she understood he was perfectly aware of it even. To_ "them_," friendship was based on self-benefits, and revolved around wealth, and achieving higher statuses by using and deceiving each other. She'd never understand the relations between his type.

"…If only you weren't a Gryffindor, or a Muggleborn for that matter, then maybe, I could see us getting along more decently. But like I said, how things are, is just how things are."

"Or maybe if you weren't such a prejudice Pureblood, or in Slytherin?"

Draco flashed Hermione a skeptical look, along with a smirk, "Yes, or that too."

"The future can change with the right influences," she continued with determination.

"And I shall hope it can—," he paused, scraping the bits of root into the brew. "For your sake."


End file.
